I Love Her, I Hate Her
by 4everallways
Summary: Oneshot. They may fight, but in the end they will always be there to back one another up. AU.


Another small Oneshot from yours truly! First of all, thank you to all of you who reviewed the final chapter of 'Post Cronus!' Without giving too much away, this is my way of writing a sibling rivalry type of fic without having to introduce any OC's. Seriously, I don't want to go anywhere near an OC that I've created for a long time. To all those A/A fans, this is indeed an alternate universe fic, so fair warning if you came for fluff, fluff and only fluff, you'd better turn away now. Now, without any further ado, enjoy the story!

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Not everyone has the best relationship with his or her siblings. Hell, barely anyone does. Most siblings fight a lot, but deep down inside, they can admit to themselves that they do care deeply about their brother or sister. A sort of love-hate relationship. That's the way it is with my sister Atlanta and I. Sometimes, we act as though we are the best friends; doing everything together from playing video games to skateboarding in the park. Other times, I want to pull her hair out and feed it to our dog, Zeus.

Atlanta and I are twins. I still consider myself to be older and more superior than her. After all, I am a full five minutes older. No one would ever be able to tell that we were twins, though, considering that we look absolutely nothing alike. Her hair is fire hydrant red, and I dyed mine purple. Seeming polar opposites, a warm colour, and a cool colour.

But my sister and I weren't. Well, not exactly. We both had a thing for sports, although I preferred basketball and she like field hockey. She was never the girly type; she would prefer playing video games to giving her best friend a makeover. According to Atlanta, I am cocky and a jerk. What you don't hear is how much of a brat she is. Always having to be right, is that just a girl thing?

"Archie! Where did you put my soccer ball?" Speak of the devil.

"Over by the front door," I call back. Geez, and she's supposed to be _good_ at finding things.

"Tell mom I went out with Theresa," she tells me, before I hear the door slam. Theresa is Atlanta's best friend. I have a nickname for her. Drama Queen. That girl drives me crazy. How Atlanta stays friends with her is beyond me. She and Atlanta met through our school's girl's field hockey team. They are both forwards. I should know, Atlanta drags me to her games every so often, depending on whether or not we're getting along at the time. I don't really mind. Some of the girls on her team are pretty hot.

The most unfortunate part about having a twin sister is the fact that you are the same age. Meaning you have the same classes, the same teachers, and in my case, the same friends. I have two really good friends, Herry and Jay. My sister, being the tomboy that she is decided to befriend my friends. The worst part is that they actually like her. Seriously, it's like I'm the only person who gets on her case. Some of them are even quite close friends with her as well. My friend Herry treats her like a little sister.

I'm not saying I hate the fact that my sister is friends with my best buds, but what really gets to me is anytime I ask them if they want to do something, the response I get is, "Sure, did you invite Atlanta?" Come on. Sometimes I think they forget that she is in fact my _sister. _Most of the time, we end up coming back to our place to hangout, because our mom is never around.

My mom works full time, and only comes home around dinner. Her hair used to be the same colour as Atlanta's, but it lightened over the years. My father was murdered when Atlanta and I were only six months. Obviously, neither of us remembers him. Our mom has one photo of him and her sitting on top of the fireplace. I dyed my hair purple because mom says it was his favourite colour.

I hear the doorbell ring from my spot on the couch, so I get up and open the door. Behind it stands my sister. She looks pretty pissed.

"Why'd you ring the bell?" I ask her.

"I forgot my key," she grumbles as she kicks of her shoes.

"I thought you were going out with Theresa."

"Would you mind your own business, Archie?" She glares at me before stomping up the stairs and slamming the door to her room.

I stand there hesitating for a minute or two, and then follow her up the stairs. Knowing Atlanta, I'm going against my better judgment by going upstairs and trying to make her talk to me; most likely, she'll just yell at me before throwing something and telling me to get out of her room. The only reason I decided to follow through with such a dangerous plan is the fact that she is my sister. I can't just leave her upstairs to mope in her sorrows. I hold up my fist and knock on her door. Mom, if I don't make it out alive, please know that I love you.

"What," Atlanta's muffled voice comes from behind the door. I open the door to see her curled up on her bed. Am I imagining things or are her eyes red? Atlanta _never_ cries. Whines, maybe. Yells, definitely. But _never_ does she cry. Not when she fell off her bike when she was six, not when some guy stood her up on the night of the school dance. I think her exact words were, "that jerk can go screw himself," before she walked away looking like she could care less, and she hadn't even wanted to go.

I could tell she was trying to shield her eyes so that I couldn't see her, but the damage was done. "Why were you crying," I ask her quietly.

"I wasn't crying I have allergies."

"Allergies my ass," I state clearly before sitting on the side of her bed. "What's wrong?"

She looks up at me briefly before looking back down at her hands. "Theresa dumped me to be friends with Medelia. She said it was her or me, and she chose her. Medelia always hated me. Probably because I'm so much better than her at field hockey, and the coach likes me better." Trust Atlanta to still be her cocky self, even when she's upset.

I stare at her in amazement. Not because of what she just told me, Theresa always was a stuck up rich girl, but because something like this upset Atlanta so much. She still had all her other friends, even if Theresa was her best friend.

"Seriously? That's what you're so upset about? Atlanta, Theresa is a jerk. You don't need her. You have a bunch of other really good friends that you know you can always rely on. You should know for a fact that Herry, Jay and I will always be there for you. And I'm not just saying that because I'm your brother. And about the crying-"

"If you're about to say that crying is healthy and other crap like that, I don't want to hear it," she says. The stubborn little girl.

"Okay, I won't. But seriously, it doesn't' matter. It's not like I secretly took pictures that I'm going to post online later."

She smiles at this, and pushes me. I push her back. She then jumps off her bed so quickly she almost startles me.

"Come on, are we going to sit here all day or go and do something fun?" She asks.

I pretend to think about it for a minute. "Race you outside," I call to her, and then I bolt out of her room. I hear her coming up behind me, catching up in no time. She always was faster. But being just as stubborn as she is, I insist on racing her all the time, claiming that eventually I will beat her. It's no surprise when yet again she wins. She grabs the basketball from the shed and starts to dribble it, but I quickly grab it out of her hands and take a shot at the hoop. The ball bounces off the backboard, and falls through the net.

"So what's the score now? Oh, I remember! Archie one, Atlanta zero," I gloat, before tossing her the ball. She catches it, dashes past me and chucks it at the hoop. It bounces off the rim and somehow, miraculously still goes in.

"What's that you were saying?" She asks me. I take the ball from her hands again and toss it at the hoop. It goes in again.

"I believe I said I was winning," I say smugly. She scowls at me.

"You cheated," she accuses.

"How?"

"I wasn't ready."

"Tough luck."

"You're an asshole."

"And you're a cocky princess."

"I am _not_ a princess. Go tell that to Theresa," she yells, before running off.

"You had it coming," I call after her. All in a day's work. There we were, I was making her feel better, and here we are again, fighting as usual. Jeez, and it wasn't even past noon yet.

Earlier, I guess was the love, and the present situation being the hate of the whole love-hate relationship.

Sometimes, I really wish I were an only child. That way, I wouldn't have to worry about sharing my stuff, or getting blamed for things I didn't do. But then I realize that I would miss my sister. Although I would never admit this to _anyone _she really is my best friend. Besides, if Atlanta weren't around, who else would I bother all the time?


End file.
